Behind us, Ghost and Sherlock finally break through the treeline, weapons raised once more at the sight of the siren.
"What the hell—" Sherlock begins.
“I’ve got this. You go,” Cormac steps between the GUIDE agents and me.
I step into the river. The siren's hands close around my wrists, and then we're plunging beneath the surface. The world dissolves into currents and pressure and the thundering of my own heartbeat.
Then, suddenly, air again. We burst from the water of an enormous golden fountain in the central square of Odingard. The siren holding Astrid is right beside us, waiting for me.
The twilight sky glows violet-gold above us and the twin moons hang low on the horizon. Crystal lanterns line the square, their light catching on the rune-etched cobblestones beneath my feet.
The citizens of Asgard scatter in surprise at our abrupt arrival, shouts of alarm quickly turning to recognition. The flutter of cloaks and hushed whispers ripple through the gathering crowd.
"Prince Fenrir!"
"The prince has returned!"
"Who is the woman?"
I ignore them all, taking Astrid back into my arms. Her skin is colder now, her breaths coming in gasps. The soul shard in her chest flickers erratically like a dying star.
"Make way!" I bellow, striding from the fountain toward the palace gates.
The doorway to the golden palace of my grandfather, Odin, looms ahead, its spires reaching for the heavens like the branches of Yggdrasil itself. Rune-light pulses along its walls, ancient magick thrumming with power I can feel in my bones. The guards at the entrance recognize me instantly, jumping to attention before rushing to open the massive doors carved with the histories of the Eight Realms.
"Fetch Eir!" one shouts to a page, who takes off running down a side corridor.
"Grandmother!" I roar, my voice echoing through the vaulted halls I've known since childhood. "Grandmother, help us!"
I carry Astrid through the grand atrium where the scent of amber incense fills the air. Past startled courtiers and servants, beneath archways of polished silver etched with runes of protection and healing. Her heartbeat has slowed, each pulse weaker than the last.
"EIR!" I shout, the name tearing from me like a prayer and a demand in one. "EIR, HURRY!"
A flurry of movement at the end of the hall. My grandmother, Frigga, appears, her golden hair flowing loose around her shoulders, eyes wide. The subtle chime of the protective amulets she always wears announces her approach before she speaks.
"Fenrir? What—" Her gaze falls on Astrid, and understanding dawns immediately. "Bring her here. Quickly."
She leads me to a small side chamber, one of her many potion rooms in the palace. This one has a long stone table at its center. Heat radiates from the hearth where herbs simmer in a copper cauldron, filling the air with sharp medicinal scents. Crystal globes embedded in the ceiling cast pure white light over the workspace. I place Astrid down gently on the smooth stone, my hands lingering, unwilling to break contact.
"Chimera venom," I tell my grandmother. "She was protecting her team."
Frigga's hand touches my shoulder, a brief comfort before she begins examining Astrid with efficient movements. Her fingers trace the black veins that now spread across Astrid's face.
I can't breathe. The sight of my grandmother's normally steady hands faltering for just a moment shatters what little composure I have left. The poison has spread too far, too fast. Her touch confirms what I've been trying to deny—we might be too late.
"Tell me you can save her," I rasp, the words barely making it past the knot in my throat. My chest feels hollow, as if the fading soul shard is taking pieces of me with it. "Grandmother, please."
Frigga's eyes meet mine, filled with a compassion that terrifies me more than anger would. She doesn't offer false hope—she never has. "EIR!" she calls out, her voice carrying the full authority of the Queen of Asgard.
The doors burst open, and Eir strides in. The Valkyrie healer's silver armor gleams in the light streaming through the high windows and her dark hair is pulled back in a severe braid. "Everyone out," she commands, already moving to Astrid's side. "Except you, my Queen."
"No," I growl, my hand still clutching Astrid's. "I won't leave her."
Eir's gaze meets mine, unflinching. "Fen, your presence will only distract me. The venom is nearly at her heart. I need complete focus."
"Fenrir," my grandmother says softly, taking my arm. "Let Eir work. Come."
I resist, watching Astrid's chest barely rise and fall. The black veins have reached her temples now, creeping toward her eyes like grasping fingers.
